


Sergio the Undead and His Ghost of a Soulmate

by prompt_fills



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was a weird creature living in the abandoned mansion in the middle of woods. A very weird creature, as Sergio was about to find out.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
**…**

  
  
  
Sergio scrambled through the forest, staggering under the weight of his one lonely suitcase in which he had stuffed all his belongings. The forest was almost impenetrable, the weed overgrown, and if there once had been a path, it was long gone now. The trees stood tall and dark, their branches and leaves shading the sunlight. Though he had been walking for over five hours, Sergio did not seem to be getting any closer to his destination.  
  
_It has to be here, somewhere,_ Sergio thought to himself. When he looked around, nothing seemed familiar. That was good for he had snapped twigs and left marks on the forest ground, hoping he would recognize it should he be walking around in circles. He tried not to think about how leaving those marks behind also made him an easy target to follow.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, Sergio could hear galloping. It seemed to be getting closer to him. Then again, it seemed to have been nearing for the past half an hour. Sergio should have remembered to ask if the forest was enchanted. But the nice old witch he had met early in the morning smiled at him kindly, tapped her overgrown fingernail to _please sign here_ and pointed him on his way to the forest. She assured him he should reach the old mansion in no time if only he keeps heading north. She also warned him not to drink from the spring near the fallen warty birch because the liquid has the uncanny tendency to de-age people more than they would ever like, so Sergio figured she would have told him that the forest demands a token to let people pass through. Sergio had no innocent souls with him that he could sacrifice to the forest gods anyway.  
  
It was too late to turn back now. Determined, Sergio kept walking on and on until, finally, the forest lead him to a clearing from which he could see an old mansion in the distance. Even from afar, it was clear that the edifice had been abandoned for quite some time. The windows were boarded up, the plaster peeling and showing faded red brick underneath. It must have been gorgeous, once. But it was shut-up some odd seven years ago and, frankly, now it looked frightening more than breathtaking.  
  
Sergio was not easily frightened and he crossed the clearing with a spring to his step, looking towards to laying down and resting his feet. He reached the gates in a little while. There were three entrances, two smaller ones on the sides for pedestrians and one huge rusty gate in the middle wide open, as if waiting for a carriage.  
  
Sergio chose the gate on the very right and entered the property. Slowly, he walked the drive leading to the mansion. On his right were remains of a fruit garden, on his left was a lake. _A lake, huh,_ Sergio frowned for he was not informed about any lake belonging to the house. There was a mist above the surface of the lake, not much of it but enough to make it look interesting. Sergio spared a moment to admire the reflection of the trees and the house in the water. In spite of the decay, the grandeur of the mansion was still evident.  
  
Sergio put his suitcase on the veranda, fishing an old-fashioned iron latchkey from his pocket. The lock gave in without much protest and, unfortunately, so did the door, falling from their hinges upon the barest push. Sergio stepped in to the hallway, dead air immediately filling his lungs.  
  
“Home sweet home,” he declared. He strained his ears but there was no echo in the stifling silence of the house and, much to Sergio’s relief, no reply either. When he was signing up for this gig, he knew the place had been believed to be haunted. He charged extra.  
  
Sergio walked back onto the veranda, pried down a few loose boards from the windows so at least some light could get in. He did not worry about the doors for now; there was only fresh air that could get in. Hopefully, he would find something to guard it before nightfall. Sergio grabbed his suitcase and went to inspect the house. He still had some time to spare.  
  
Much to his surprise, the house was well preserved inside. He was worried that maybe there would not be a bed to sleep in but the house had looked startlingly good. Dusty. Old. Unlived in. Very cold. But well furnished. There were even books in the reading room and some suspiciously looking fruit compotes in the basement. Sergio could not have asked for more.  
  
As soon as the sun started to settle down, he lit up candles and drew all the sodding sigils he could think off. When the dark came, he and his handy Latin phraseology for exorcism were ready. And then – _nothing_. He was sleepy and tired and nothing was happening. Not even a strange whine of the wind at the midnight. The house should be moaning with old pain, settling for the night, creaking because the heat of the day was gone – but there was only silence. Ever-present, eerie silence that had not seem this odd when the sun was still shining.  
  
Until half past four, Sergio stayed in the living room, nearly falling asleep on his feet, waiting for a presence to show up. He stood by the window, blinking himself awake every now and then. The monsters had not came. The sky begun to lighten and Sergio knew the sun would be up again soon and the presences would have a hard time trying anything.  
  
He could not muster the energy to walk up the stairs into the bedroom on the top floor he chose for himself. He was so tired that upon deciding not to wait for the supernatural any longer, he simply let himself fell asleep on the couch. He was gone the moment he kicked off his shoes and swung his feet up, never mind the state the said couch was in.  
  
Sergio woke up late in the afternoon, sore and disoriented. When he remembered where he was, he sprung to his feet, nervously checking his surroundings. None of the sigils was disturbed and nothing seemed to be any different from last night.  
  
Sergio let out a sigh of relief but remained on the edge for the rest of the day, constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting any and all creatures to make their presence known.

  
**…**


	2. Chapter 2

**…**

  
  
Thirteen days went by before Sergio first encountered anything supernatural. Thirteen long, blissful days when Sergio was starting to think himself lucky, earning extra money based on some ghost stories that were just that, made up stories.  
  
Then, just as Sergio was enjoying his late afternoon tea on the veranda – the house was actually very well stocked and once he got the hang of it, the trips to the nearest village never lasted more than eight hours – the sky darkened and sharp wind picked up. Sergio was on his feet, leaping toward the house that instant. He was still too slow.  
  
“Christ,” Sergio muttered when the newly fixed front doors slammed shut in front of him. A while later, the window on the highest floor swung open. Sergio’s suitcase flew out of and landed on the lawn, its contents spilling. Despite himself, Sergio had to admire the speed; it had taken him a whole afternoon to pack his belongings and get the damned suitcase zipped up.  
  
He walked over to his things, picking them up and shoving them back into the suitcase. He wasn’t going to give up this easily. He was promised a small fortune for this job and no bloody ghost was going to stop him.  
  
“I’m warning you,” Sergio yelled, “I’ll be back in a minute!” He walked the perimeter, barely containing an excited cry when he found a basement window ajar. He pushed it fully open and peered into the darkness inside. He climbed onto the window sill, let his legs dangle, and then he carefully sunk down.  
  
The fall was short and he landed on the balls of his feet. He staggered but quickly found his footing. He fumbled around the dark for a while but then his eyes adjusted and he made his way to the door.  
  
He reached out, twisted the doorknob and found the door locked. There wasn’t a key hole and the door seemed to practically melt into the wall. Sergio tried to wrench it open and he tried to kick it down and then he got a little carried away, raining punches at the innocent door until his hands hurt.  
  
He returned to the window through which he entered the house; it was too high for him to reach from the inside. This really wasn’t a good moment to notice how much this basement room looked like a dungeon and how the air was humid and the walls were slickly wet and everything smelled like the water from the lake.  
  
Sergio inspected the floor and found a strange small iron grids arranged in an ornamental patterns on the floor. It looked like a drain system of some sort. Sergio stared at it, trying to puzzle it out. Maybe there were secret tunnels underneath the house? Sergio crouched down, poking at one of the grids. Upon a slight pressure, it clicked into place and Sergio barely suppressed a shiver of anticipation, eyeing the walls for a hidden entrance revealing itself. There was a splutter from the drain, a gurgle, and then water started flooding in.  
  
Sergio yelled the first incantation that came to his mind, panicking. He would drown in the basement like a bloody rat. “ _Nolite locum dar_ –” he started to chant but abruptly cut himself off when he noticed the water rapidly raising in response. It was already reaching his ankles, soaking into his trousers, making him shiver. The water was like an embrace of an ice-cold death. It reached his waist and kept raising.  
  
Sergio was on the verge of a mental breakdown but then he realized that if the water would keep raising, he would soon be able to _swim_ out of the window. Sergio waited for his moment, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Then he sprung to action.  
  
The moment Sergio’s fingers brushed past the window sill, the water started to drain. Sergio hastily pulled himself up and through the window. He was drenched, his heart hammering in his chest, his body frozen to the bones. The wind was still blowing, sending chills down Sergio’s spine. Nothing of that mattered, though. He stood on a solid ground again, taking in the fresh air in big, desperate gulps.  
  
When he caught his breath, he made his way to where he left his suitcase. Funny squelching sounds accompanied his steps.  
  
Sergio gathered his suitcase in his arms and tossed it through a window into the entrance hall. The glass shattered, flying everywhere. Sergio carefully climbed inside the house, avoiding sharp edges. He paused in the middle of a dining room, little pools of water forming on the parquet. Sergio didn’t mind that. He listened intently should he hear any sound coming from the house.  
  
The house was just as ominously silent as always, the wind that raged outside not daring to howl through the empty corridors inside.  
  
Mollified, Sergio dragged his suitcase up the stairs, one step at the time. He was nearly on top of the staircase when the rotten wood broke under him, the suitcase flew from his hands and Sergio overbalanced, landing gracelessly on the stairs. He was lying there for a moment, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. Then, his suitcase started to slowly move all by itself, one inch at the time, closer and closer still to the edge of the stair it rested upon. Sergio watched it all happen, aghast, and just as the suitcase overbalanced, he sprung to his feet, yanked at his suitcase and pulled it the rest of the way up, avoiding the partly missing step as he finished his ascend.  
  
He reached his room, pushed his suitcase inside and having locked the door, he leaned heavily against it. For the first time since he had arrived to the mansion, he started to doubt if coming here was a good decision. It was true that the abandoned mansion in the middle of a forest, that was hard enough to navigate through during summer and impossible to cross in the winter, would be the last place anyone would look for him. No one was looking for him yet. Sergio was sure he could have stayed in the city and he would have been completely safe for a few more months to follow. None of his neighbours was getting suspicious so his decision to pack up his things and move was perhaps premature. But the offer was so tempting! A bit of house-sitting, making sure the house was safe for the owner to reclaim the property. Nothing he had not done before. Had he stayed in the city, he would soon run out of the money from his previous gig anyway.  
  
Sergio peeled himself from the door, crouched down by his suitcase and started unpacking his belongings. Outside, the wind slowly calmed. The sky did not clear, letting the nightfall come almost unnoticed. Sergio renewed the sigils on the windows and his door and went to the bed on an empty stomach, his tea long forgotten.  


**…**


	3. Chapter 3

  
**…**

  
  
  
Deep in thought, Sergio sat at the bay window seat in the reading room that overlooked the hazel woods on the west. The sun was glowing orange, casting soft light over the trees as it begun to disappear behind the horizon. It was too dark to continue reading, so Sergio sat there, a book resting in his lap. The book clattered to the floor when Sergio jumped to his feet, alarmed by the movement he caught by the corner of his eye.  
  
Sergio swivelled around; the room was empty.  
  
Suddenly realizing how cold it had gotten, Sergio bent over to pick his book, put a bookmark in it and set it aside on the table to return to it tomorrow. He headed out into his bedroom to make a fire to keep himself warm.  
  
It was autumn and the days grew shorter. Every chilly morning Sergio would wake up and expect to see the lake frozen.  
  
Sergio gathered a few logs to carry with him to his room. He learned that a single log would keep the fire alive through the night.  
  
He knelt down in front of the fireplace and then he felt the temperature drop even more significantly. _Here we go again,_ Sergio thought but this time, he did not turn around to look, instead pretending to be preoccupied with kindling the fire. Curious, he waited what would happen.  
  
Sergio knelt there, holding his breath, until his knees begun to throb so badly he thought he would get a cramp in his right leg had he stayed there unmoving a minute longer. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder only to discover that he was alone in his room.  
  
Just to be on the safe side, though, like a prayer Sergio whispered one of his incantations against the stillness of the night before climbing into his bed. This one little incantation was all it took for his sleep not to be disturbed.  
  
Sergio woke up well rested, if still cold. He went to place another log to the fire. He put a blanket around his shoulders, wrapping himself in a cocoon of warmth. It did not stood a chance against the coldness of the whole house but it was better than nothing. It was his own blanket, one he had packed with himself when he left the city. Sergio had not yet washed it so it still smelled faintly of a cheap laundry detergent but even that last remainder of his previous home was fading.  
  
Sergio hung his head low, cursing his adventurous nature that had him leaping from one opportunity to another, consequences be what they may. Especially if finding his soulmate was a part of the equation.  
  
The childish tendency to eagerly agree to every single chance that presented itself remained with him through the adulthood. Others often mocked him for that. But others were not looking for someone like Sergio was. Others were happy with their uncomplicated lives and wanted Sergio to submit to what they called his fate. They claimed some souls were not meant to form a bond at all. Sergio refused to believe that theory. He refused to lose hope. Though with each passing year, the shadow of doubt grew darker and more prominent. Sergio had yet to meet anyone as old as he was who was not settled yet. But as long as there was time, there was hope, too. Or at least, that was what Sergio wanted to believe.  
  
If Sergio had not found his soulmate, it was not due to the lack of trying. Sometimes, Sergio wondered if it might be because he was trying so hard that he had not formed the bond yet.  
  
Sergio drew in a long breath, savouring the familiar scent of the blanket while he still could. He paddled down to the kitchen, fixed himself a modest breakfast, and sat with it in the dining room. The table there was huge, the chairs many. He pulled one of the chairs aside, sat down and took a sip from his steaming mug of tea, clasping it in the palms of both his hands until his skin there turned pink from the contact. He was seated so he would face the table and his gaze kept flickering between the empty seats around him. He pondered about the fate of a family that once had needed a table this big. He thought it lucky that the founders did not live long enough to see the fall of the family.  
  
Sergio was glad for the house, there was a lot of work to do to prepare the house for the winter. There was no electricity but Sergio did not mind. He found enough dried wood stored in the basement, and there were many candles, too. The house offered more comfort than Sergio had been hoping. When he left the city and came here, he was ready to make do with any shelter, as long as there was a roof above and walls around to guard him from the worst bite of winter. A shelter. Sergio needed nothing else and the witch did not seem to be offering much else. But the mansion was much more than a shelter. It used to be someone's home a long time ago. Sergio would have to be blind not to see it all around him. The house was littered with personal objects like framed photographs and paintings on the walls, books neatly stocked on shelves in nearly every room in the right wing, jewelleries, mirrors with small little black dots set in golden frames, white marble staircases. There were pots with overgrown weed in several windows – they must had been beautiful flowers once upon a time.  
  
Getting the place clean was a tedious task that took a lot of time and yielded no immediate results. Sergio had nothing if not plenty of time on his hands. He was not deterred and each morning would find him somewhere around the house, cleaning, scrubbing, mending what little he could mend.  
  


  
**…**


	4. Chapter 4

**…**

  
  
The days would come and go and Sergio would try not to count each and every single one of them.  
  
Most evenings found him by the lake. Mist would form above the surface, sometimes spilling to the woods in the back of the lands, sometimes just rolling lazily above the lake. The mist was getting more and more persistent as the days grew shorter and the nights longer. It would form before dawn and stay well into the midday and even then the air would remain humid and chilling. In the late afternoon, the misty haze would thicken into a fog.  
  
Sergio liked spending time walking in the fruit garden but it took him several visits to notice how peculiar the trees were. There was something among their shades that was stifling. Upon a closer inspection, Sergio became positive that there was a curse on this part of the garden – perhaps that was why some of the trees looked like they were not in bloom for decades. Sergio made a mental note to look up possible explanations in his books. It could be some kind of an infertility spell but it could also be something much darker.  
  
The books Sergio had with him and the ones in the mansion provided no satisfying answers so Sergio decided to make a trip to the village to send a note to the witch that hired him in the first place. Perhaps she would know of something or could send him some more books he could study. The walk was long and uneventful and when Sergio returned, he spent three solid hours in front of the fireplace trying to shake off the coldness he could feel settled deep in his bones. There had been a thick fog surrounding the mansion that Sergio had to go through and he could feel the moisture lingering on his skin, leaving it clammy no matter how close to the open fire Sergio sat.  
  
Over the next two weeks, Sergio noticed the fog was becoming a problem. Sometimes when he woke from a nap, he could not tell if it was day or night for everything would be the same – grey, gloomy and cold.  
  
In retrospect, he should have known sooner that there was nothing natural about that mist. It took him one very unsettling incident to realize it.  
  
The daylight had scarcely started to give into the night but Sergio was already tired from the labour he had done during the day. He had retired to his room early and was now shivering under his blanket, waiting for a kettle to boil over the flames. That was when he saw the mist, three stores high, pressing against the window. As Sergio gaped, the mist seeped in through the creaks in the frames, thinning to fit through and then gathering above the floor, like liquid, or like an animal with its own mind. It looked as if it was feeling around for something. Sergio made a strangled noise and the glimmering moist air paused momentarily before forming with newly found urgency. Sergio sprung to his feet and run to the doors. The freshly formed fog, much like smoke, was not to be contained. It followed Sergio as he run down the stairs and it started forming a circle around him. Sergio looked over to the front entrance of the house – the fog was there too. It was everywhere. Everything was so cold and dark that a chilling thought crossed Sergio’s mind – maybe _this_ was what the crazy old woman had meant when she said she was sure Sergio would find what he was looking for in this abandoned mansion.  
  
Maybe it was death Sergio was meant to find among these walls and he just had not known it yet. Sergio stood still, rooted to the floor, as the fog slithered near. He could clearly feel the presence of death in the mist.  
  
The house was whining and that was strange because the house never gave away any noise. But the whining was definitely there, Sergio could hear it with his own ears. Only it was not the house. There was something whispering from within the fog. When Sergio tried to focus on the sound, he could not make out any words. It was just the fog and the cold and something very, very unnatural. Something that was not stopped by the protective sigils and spells Sergio has placed on the house.  
  
Though he could not understand the words, the plaintive whispers shook Sergio out of his trance. With the clarity of the drowning, he realized he did not want to die yet. He raised his hand – he could barely make out the shape of his palm for the fog had gotten so thick – and started with the incantation he trusted most. The words flew from his lips effortlessly, and he repeated them over and over again.  
  
It worked. Sergio could barely believe it but it worked – in front of his eyes the fog was thinning back into mist, slowly and reluctantly. Sergio would not stop chanting until the mist disappeared from the house altogether. When Sergio walked over to the window and carefully peered out he could see that even the mist around the lake had receded. It was quite serene, all of the sudden. Only Sergio’s heart hammered in his chest and Sergio wondered if it could have been only his heartbeat pounding too loudly and his panicked breathing wheezing in his ears minutes ago. He did not think so. Whatever it was he heard, it sounded different, almost like a whisper, urgent muffled words. And then there was the sudden inexplicable feeling like the ground was swept from under his feet and he was grabbed by a fist of despair itself, pulled deeper and deeper still into the darkness. Sergio was relieved that whatever it was, it seemed to be gone now.  
  
The house settled back into the stillness. The usual silence did not sit quite well with Sergio. He missed the sounds of the city. He never knew how much he grew used to them before he left it all behind. The mansion was something else. Quiet and peaceful but lonesome in a way Sergio liked. Like the abandoned property was desperately holding onto the ideals of its youth. To that, Sergio could relate.  
  
Still, Sergio missed the city. He used to fell asleep to the sounds of cargo trains slowly pulling their load over the old iron bridge. Sergio missed the lulling monotone of the wheels on the rails and the way the bridge would gasp under the weight.  
  
He missed – and that one was hard to admit to himself – he missed having humans around.

**…**


	5. Chapter 5

**…**

After the incident, things were quiet for a while. Sergio had time to do his research and strengthen the wards he put around the place. His vigilance was always peaked. He no longer felt like the mansion was a safe hideout from the rest of the world. If there was something so strong and dark that it could cut through his defences, unbothered by the sigils – something that was only very reluctantly kept at bay by the incantations – Sergio could never be careful enough.

Sergio knew that whatever dark power was behind the fog was by no means banished, it was most likely trying to replenish so it could attack again with more vigour than previously.

He was right. It took only a couple of days and Sergio become yet again aware that someone was watching him. Or perhaps, something. There was this uneasy shiver, accompanied by his skin prickling. The air would feel too heavy to breathe. Sergio would always turn to look. Sometimes swiftly, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever it was, sometimes very slowly as if not to startle the chilling presence into dispersing.

Sometimes, upon turning and facing a seemingly empty room or a hallway, he would softly call out: “Is somebody there?”

But there would never be a reply.

The house was silent and Sergio was restless. The anticipation did not sit well with him. He felt like he ought to be doing something, preparing his defence. A few muttered words here and there would barely make the difference.

One late afternoon, Sergio was by the window of the sunroom, surveying the grounds, admiring all the work he has done for the place so far and imagining all the changes he had yet to make. It was one of the rare occasions when the setting sun would break through the clouds and make the grounds seem almost welcoming.

Suddenly, Sergio’s gaze caught a slow movement by the lake. It was a figure of a young man, a phantom figure reflected in the fading rays of the sun. Sergio watched, transfixed, until the darkness settled over the grounds and the figure, if there had been any, melted into the lengthening shadows.

Come the night, Sergio feverishly worked on his warding, his charms and the sigils. If there really had been a figure by the lake, it was only a matter of time until there was a figure in the house.

It was near midnight when he was done. Sergio cracked his spine and wondered if he would have been so eager to accept the witches’ offer to clear the mansion and keep it safe for her, had he known how resourceful the hostile presence could be.

Sergio checked his supply of millet, salt and frankincense, made sure the hand-drawn cross at the feet of the staircase was not smudged. Then he entered his bedroom, lighting up four white candles. He started chanting the familiar words while making sure his holy water got sprinkled evenly into all the dark corners.

Then he sat down on the floor and with his arm he drew a pentagram in the circle into the air with big, precise movements.

Eventually, the candles burned out and Sergio went to sleep.

The first rays of sun had not yet reached Sergio’s window when he sat up abruptly on his bed, shivering. The air was moist again; Sergio clutched the protective charm around his neck and with a sense of dread, he turned to face the door.

Within the lazy swirls of the fog stood a shadow shaped like a human figure with eyes wide open, unseeing.

With a scream, Sergio stumbled out of the bed.

The apparition vanished that instant, its delicate shape exploding into a swirl of fog, melting from sight, like it had never been there. The fog receded quickly after that.

Sergio was shaking all over and it took hours until he gathered his thoughts again.

One thing was to know what was expected of him – to go search for the presence and make sure it stays banished once and for all – yet it was another thing to face a spirit so strong that it slips past all the defences Sergio ever learned like they were nothing but a children’s counting rhyme.

Sergio never heard about something getting past all the protective spells. It should not have been possible. It could not have been possible. There must have been something he was missing, something that would explain how the fog crept inside the house.

Sergio tried warding off the house completely the following night. It was a bold and risky move because had the spirit been inside, Sergio would only succeed in trapping it with him in the mansion.

The relentless effort brought Sergio no peace. He got to see the spirit staring to take form again, merrily crossing Sergio’s salt lines and sigils, pausing only a moment over the threshold – but when Sergio, white as snow, dared to look closer, he saw that the spirit appeared to be tracing some patters into the front door that Sergio had to replace upon his arrival. The door had been painted black a fortnight ago in futile attempt to keep evil spirits from coming inside.

Sergio was not about to get scared, though. He had seen too much and had been through a lot. Whatever was the spirit’s nature, Sergio would find a way to get to it. He was determined.

“What do you want?” Sergio asked, raising up from where he was crouched on the staircase, awaiting the spirit.

As if with a swish of a magic wand, the mist was gone. Sergio cursed and stormed back into the study room.

Sergio begun to write down all he knew about the spirit in a thick leather-bound notebook. He was convinced that the mansion was only haunted by a single malevolent spirit that caused all the mayhem. From the telekinesis to the coldness, Sergio thought the cause was the same.

Should he find a way to get rid of the apparition, all his troubles would be over and he could enjoy living in the mansion before the witch redeemed it safe enough for her to move in instead.

Sergio reread his notes on the spirit, then snapped the book shut and sprung into action.

First step, he needed to find the spirit again. There were four different enchantments to bound a spirit, depending on its elements. Sergio would march down to the lake and find out which one made any difference to the ever-present mist. He would bet his money on water element.

Once the sun was about to set completely, Sergio pulled himself away from the window and walked to his suitcase. Mechanically, he took all he needed, then hung a protective crystal pendant around his neck and grabbed both his spell book and the Latin phraseology for exorcism. This was what he was here for, he reminded himself.

When he set his foot on the veranda, he could see the fog stretch all the way to the lake. As he walked, however, the fog would back away in front of him. At first he thought it was a mere illusion for the fog directly in front of him would always seem clearer. But it was not a trick. The fog kept giving him space, thinning into mere misty moisture, trailing back to the lake as Sergio charged forwards, his pulse quickening with each step he took. He tried to remain calm and determined. The adrenalin pumped in his veins and Sergio barely noticed the coldness.

At last, he stood at the bank of the lake. The night was clear and quiet. If Sergio listened really closely, he thought he could make out the faintest sound of the hooves hitting the ground somewhere deep in the forest.

Sergio waited, fingers clenching on his books. With slow, careful movements, he sunk down to the ground, lit a single candle and put it in a jar to protect the flame from wind.

Standing up, Sergio closed his eyes to focus. When he opened them again, he froze. The mist was spinning in a lazy circles upon the lake before it took form. The misty haze shaped itself into a human figure and Sergio was sure he must have lost his senses because despite all he’d learned about the place, he took a step closer. The image became clearer.

Once Sergio could make out the shape of a man that started floating towards him, he quickly collected himself. He crouched on the ground, hands placed over the drenched straws of grass. Reassured by the feeling of a ground beneath him, Sergio started with the binding ceremony. “ _Non semper cacoethes_ –”

The form dissolved into nothing. One second Sergio was watching its approach, his heart beating madly in his chest, and then the mist expanded into the darkness and faded away, much like water seeping into sand.

Sergio was startled by the effectiveness but would not stay by the lake for a second longer to ponder about it. He got to his feet, ignoring the way they nearly gave out from underneath him, and strode back to the mansion. He hated having his backs turned on the lake but the mist had never reappeared again on the same day once he had forced it away.

Once inside, Sergio sat in the reading room for long moments, staring blindly at the dark window, an unopened book in his lap, covered by his hand. Only when the night became pitch black did he go to bed. He was not able to fall asleep, for each time he closed his eyes he was certain he could feel the temperature drop colder and his eyes would fly open, fixed on the window, certain to see the mist creeping inside.

Finally, well after midnight, Sergio abandoned the thought of getting any sleep that night, got up from his bed, put on his day clothes and descended into the kitchen to make himself some tea. He did not feel like facing the many empty chairs and the ostentatiously enormous table in the dining room, so he took his tea and settled in the morning room by the kitchen, wrapped in his blanket, waiting for the sunrise.

Well, at least he was getting paid extra for this, Sergio thought to himself, inhaling the steam coming from his tea. The calming smell of honey and lemon balm could do wonders to one’s nerves.

**…**


	6. Chapter 6

**…**

With a worried frown on his face, Sergio watched from his bedroom as the mist lingered around the lake, leaving only the tips of the weed exposed to the pale morning light.

The feeling that his binding ceremony was not successful intensified.

“I should have known better,” Sergio muttered.

Searching the mansion’s library brought only disappointment as Sergio had exhausted those sources weeks ago. Finally, he decided to visit the village and hope for the best. It has been several weeks since he had requested advice and some spell books from the witch and his payment was also due.

Sergio tugged on his cloak and set off once again to the long and tiresome journey. The village was truly small and unremarkable, only a couple of houses and a few cottages scattered along the banks of a lazy river. Sergio hunched his shoulders and kept to the shadows. The fewer people noticed him the better. It would not do to bring unwanted attention to himself and the last thing he wanted was to make anyone suspicious of his presence. Once the questions started, it never ended well.

A few old-looking books were waiting for Sergio and he grabbed them quickly, tugged a scribbled notice from the witch into one of them, collected his requested package of ingredients to fight various spirits, and went his way back to the mansion.

He made it in a record time, mostly because there was _something_ within the forest that made Sergio hasten his steps, until he was eventually running through the patches of forest where the terrain allowed it.

Something was watching him, he was sure of it, something kept following him, lurking in the shadows, breathing down his neck. And while the sky looked grey and the air was humid, Sergio did not get the same feeling as he did whenever the fog materialized. This was something different.

He could hear the unsettling galloping and if he was sneaky about it, he could see the trees shifting to make his path more difficult. The birds sat on their branches silently, not daring to utter a single chirp.

Finally, Sergio saw the mansion. He hastened his pace, running through t the opening gates and stopping only atop of the staircase in front of his bedroom. There he braced one hand against the door, trying to catch his breath. He took a few steps to the window and opened it, gulping down the fresh air. The mansion had never before felt so old and musty.

Sergio picked up the first book which he had brought back and put the rest of the items on one of the bookshelves.

Then he settled into the armchair, throwing his legs over the armrest and angling himself so he would get enough light streaming through the window. He paged through the book idly. There were not many creatures that could manifest in the daylight.

He did not recall feeling drowsy but the next thing Sergio knew he was jumping up, startled by a window being slammed shut. He carefully picked up the book he was reading from the floor, smoothing the page that had gotten caught in the fall. Turning his head to the window, Sergio noted that it was already night.

Wind tickled down Sergio’s spine. _Oh._

“Hey,” Sergio said quietly, watching as the curtains moved.

Something was in the room with Sergio, he knew it just as clearly as he knew his own name.

When a hand landed on his shoulders and fingers clasped around it in a tight grip, he barely even winced. The touch was cold and clingy.

Sergio endured it for a moment, then stepped away with a barely suppressed shudder. The hand grasped his shoulder again, making Sergio recoil. He hastily took a step backwards, colliding with a window.

The hand reached for him for the third time but the icy shiver never came. Instead, the pale shape of an arm pressed against the window pane next to Sergio, momentarily fogging up the glass. With unpractised, wavering strokes, a symbol appeared on the window and the ghost’s fingers traced determined patterns into the fog.

“Oh,” Sergio breathed out. A protection spell. Sergio frowned at the top right part of it; surely it was wrong. Who would chose protective feelings as a base a protection spell, that was pure madness. “It’s wrong,” Sergio concluded aloud, then turned his head back to look at the half-formed shape, surrounded by swirly chunks of mist.

Sergio could make out the shape of two blurry hands and a face with two bleary eyes. No wonder it kept getting stronger as the time passed; it was a ghost.

With his heart clenching, Sergio watched as the poor tormented thing parted his lips. The mouth kept working silently for a few moments but when no words came out, the ghost sunk into the swirls of mist and dissolved, leaving the room smelling like a lake.

Sergio was beyond shocked by the experience. He suddenly came to a realization. It was a ghost of a boy that must have drowned in the lake. The house must have drawn in some of the groundwater into its walls and that was why the ghost could move freely between the lands and the mansion; he was anchored everywhere.

Sergio shuddered at such fate.

Then he recalled the dank stone walls of the strange room with the strange drainage system. The one that trapped him on the thirteenth day of his stay at the mansion. Sergio had gotten trapped when the room started to fill with water. Sergio recalled the feeling in a vivid detail; it was the same feeling that was multiplied enough to overpower him the day the ghost first attempted to take a form. Sergio had gotten caught up in the inner turmoil of emotions the ghost must have been feeling and spreading everywhere around him.

Sergio felt like he might throw up.

His fingers wouldn’t stop shaking when he dunked them in paint and re-drawn the protective spell the ghost had suggested. The lines ended up being just as shaky and inexpert looking as if the ghost himself had drawn them. Sergio left out the protective base but that was the only difference between the two symbols. One drawn into the fog by a spirit Sergio though was only focused on harming him, the other painted out of despair by a soul out of place.

Firmly closing the window, Sergio staggered back to his armchair. It took four attempts to lit the fire and another two to light a candle.

Sergio was in for yet another sleepless night.

**…**


	7. Chapter 7

**…**

Good thing he did not sleep, Sergio thought as he run down the stairs. He shuddered to think what might had happened had he slept through the first signs.

One, two, three times come a faint knock on the window somewhere downstairs. But that was a mere distraction. Sergio would open the window and find nothing but gaping darkness there. He knew that yet he still had to fight down a strong urge to go over there and see for himself.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sergio closed his eyes momentarily. He needed to find the real source of this madness.

Another yowl, long and cascading, resounded over the lands. Like the initial one that had shook Sergio out of his light slumber for good, this cacophony seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere in particular. He was surrounded by the sound yet could not locate its source.

Finally, the beastly sound died away.

A fleeting moment in which the sudden silence seemed to be deafening was disrupted by three fain knocks on the kitchen window.

As if caught under a spell, Sergio took a first step in that direction.

The air tingled with anticipation.

Dazed, Sergio opened the window just a crack. There was nothing outside that would be waiting to leap in. Just the darkness.

The night air was cold and Sergio leaned to close the window again but he froze still when he noticed the smudged white line of crystals. The salt line had been broken.

Sergio let go of the window without closing it and turned to run. His heart started pounding as his senses came back to him.

How could he have been so stupid and fall for such a cheap trick, he mentally scolded himself.

Sergio did not get to run away. Before he could cross the threshold out of the kitchen, a creature of the night leapt inside through the opened window. With a victorious cry, the creature stood up tall.

Its beadlike eyes caught the sight of Sergio and the creature smiled wickedly, revealing its sharp pointy teeth. Some kind of a banshee, Sergio mused, clutching at his protective charm and raising his other hand. He had not seen one like this before, though.

The creature was lean and agile, long pale hair swirling wildly around its head in the draught.

Sergio started chanting a fraction of second before the banshee opened its mouth and let out a bloodcurdling wail.

“ _–utorium meum i–_ “

It was like the sound of thousands tortured souls.

“ _–ad adiuva–_ “

Like there would never be light again in the world. Only the eternal cold with darkness and suffering. Sergio’s voice wavered slightly over the words. He could not hear himself, his chants were lost in the creature’s cry.

“ _–aeternae_ –”

The scream held pain that was almost tangible. It was overpowering. Sergio calculated quickly how long he could hold up against its influence. Maybe a few more minutes before he lost his focus completely.

“ _–proferens_ –”

There! Sergio could see it from the corner of his eye. The familiar fog started gathering around the banshee. The silvery swirls seemed to multiply quickly, appearing from the thin air and circling the banshee.

“ _–lucis novae_ –”

The ghost took form and the scream broke off. Sergio felt the relief flood his veins.

“ _–vitemus omne noxium, purgemus omne pessimum._ ”

The banshee hissed at the ghost but seemed reluctant to touch it. Swaying from side to side, it tried to side-step the ghost but the ghost moved with the creature, blocking its path further into the house.

The banshee snarled, throwing a poisonous look at Sergio. Then it moved back to the window and with a blink of an eye, it was gone back to the forest.

Having finished his ineffective chants, Sergio dropped his hand and staggered further inside the room. The ghost floated aside to let Sergio past, completely undisturbed by Sergio’s actions.

“What was that thing?!” Sergio gasped for breath, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter and running a hand through his hair. He finally took his eyes off the window and chanced a glance at the fully formed spirit.

He was shocked when the ghost managed to find his voice, quiet and raspy but quite understandable. “You… invoked… the wild spirits… of this place. Of the lands… of the forest.”

“What? How?”

“They could all… sense… the danger when you brought… your books through the forest. They felt… the threat.”

Sergio gulped, keeping his eyes away from the ghost’s face. “I wasn’t a threat before?”

“You… well, now you posses a book with the knowledge that could lead to their… banishment. They can feel it. You made a threat… now they’re going to threaten you.”

Sergio did not like the ghost’s grim prediction. Now that he was thinking about it more, he found the prediction very farfetched. He risked a glance at the ghost’s face. Sergio wouldn’t put it past the ghost to make it all up and then use his powers to make it seem like the lands were haunted by multiple creatures.

The ghost’s eyes were not meeting his either, he had his head tilted to the side, as if listening for approaching spirits that Sergio could not hear yet.

“You should know when to admit… you can’t hold up on your own,” the ghost said after a moment.

That comment had Sergio’s blood boiling. He would not stand the ghost making fun of him and playing him for fool with his deterring words and cheap tricks. Without thinking about it twice, Sergio tore at the clasp of the protective pendant that hung around his neck and plunged it through the ghost.

Immediately losing his form, the ghost shrieked – although it may have been due to being startled rather than hurt – and hastily retreated through the window as a mere shapeless mist.

Sergio leaped over to the window, leaning out of it as far as was possible. “You should know,” he roared into the night, “that I’m not giving up!”

Not a single splash came back from the lake in response.

Sergio hastened to close the window, reaching for salt to renew the lines. Over the sky, a dozen of shadows moved jerkily. Bats flying low above the ground. Definitely not a good omen. He tried to follow their flight to see where the half-birds, half-rodents were headed but he soon gave up. The bats were circling the mansion, not going anywhere. Sergio brought this upon himself, if the ghost was to be believed.

Squinting his eyes to see better, Sergio cast a searching look over the lake. Either the ghost was a skilful liar, or he was telling the truth and Sergio turned away from the only help he was offered.

Be that as it may, Sergio was regretting everything already.

**…**


	8. Chapter 8

**…**

The following day caught Sergio in a bad mood.

He was no closer to clearing out the mansion for the witch to live in, he was no closer to finding his soulmate and he was definitely no closer to banishing the one stubborn ghost.

Even the mansion was filled with all kinds of quiet, disapproving sounds. If Sergio did not know any better, he would think the house was disappointed in him.

The stairs creaked and moaned disobediently as Sergio walked down, the front door got stuck midway open, and one of the rotting boards in the entrance hall gave out completely so Sergio’s left feet got stuck as it fell through.

Indignant, Sergio freed himself and stomped to his room. There he sat with the dusty book in his lap, looking up ways to get rid of the unwanted ghost. His situation was not any more optimistic in the daylight.

It was around midday when the sky darkened and the wind picked up. Heavy raindrops started to fall from the sky. With a cautious gaze, Sergio kept watching the lake. At first it was just the rippling circles on the surface of the water distorting the reflection but as the rain intensified, it became impossible to focus on the blurry shapes.

The mist, however, was impossible to mistake for anything else. Sergio pursed his lips and grimly watched a human figure arise from the swirls of mist.

There was no point in trying to avoid the confrontation but there was also no point in letting the ghost get his way.

The moment the ghost floated near, Sergio opened the book and read the newly found incantation.

“ _Adversus_ –” Sergio begun but the ghost only snorted, throwing Sergio off balance. The sound that was close to a giggle made something in Sergio’s throat constrict and he found that he could not utter another word. Desperate, he reached to his pocket, his fingers closing around a vial of holy water. He could do nothing but wait for the ghost to come closer still. And the creature indeed came closer, its features rather distinctive, nothing like the first hazy unfocused attempts. Sergio could even see the man’s expression and he thought there was something lively flickering in those dead eyes. Well, the ghost was as close as Sergio felt comfortable with. His fingers clumsily plucked out the cork from the vial and he threw the contents into the ghost’s solemn face.

The water did not make impact with the ghost, instead it went right through in an arch before splashing against the ground. _What a waste,_ Sergio though. He finally found his voice and tried another enchantment. “ _Sae–_ ”

“No, not this one. Try again,” the ghost challenged, undisturbed by Sergio’s attempts to dispel him. A wry smile twisted the ghost’s features and Sergio felt the scrutiny of the ghosts’ eyes.

Hopeless, Sergio called: “Vanish! Pronto!”

The ghost let out a harsh breath; it almost sounded like a laugh.

Eventually, the wheezing stopped but the imploring gaze did not waver. It was as if the ghost wanted to see through Sergio. Its face was still twisted in a strange grimace of reverence and pain. “You haven’t tried any potions.”

Sergio winced when the ghost spoke. With the uttered words as if the temperature of the room dropped. “Not yet,” Sergio finally managed to get through his clenched teeth. How come nothing he tried and any effect on the ghost?

“You might like to look into it,” the ghost suggested cheekily.

“Stop by in the evening, I’ll have something ready for you by then,” Sergio gritted out. He vaguely remember dog-earing a chapter with various shield-enforcing potions. Maybe there would be something about his ghost, too.

The ghost blinked in surprise at Sergio’s answer, then its features softened into a smile. “I will, then.”

The rain kept pouring down outside, and Sergio pondered over his books with a frown on his face. Then he reached for yet another book and a lone piece of paper fell out. Crouching over to pick it up from the floor and read it, Sergio wondered if it was the note from the witch. But that had only said to keep on working on the mansion and inform her should there be any unexpected changes.

The paper had no heading but it had a list of ingredients and instructions how to brew a potion. Sergio skimmed the text over, then felt a smirk tug at his lips. He recognized the potion and its base, if maybe not exactly the same variant of ingredients.

“Of course,” Sergio muttered, smacking the table with his palm. “Toad eyes, that makes sense.” He rushed out to get them. Luckily they didn’t have to be freshly poked out. He had brought many questionable dried substances in his luggage. One never knew when he would need to create a charm of powerful trouble.

Hours passed quickly as Sergio worked on the potion. Sergio barely noticed the time, too focused on creating it precisely as the instructions told him. It was a delicate mixture and one wrong stir could spoil everything.

Finally, Sergio let the potion on a low simmer and went to pick a glass vial to contain it.

Sergio got back in the room just in time to see as the ghost mimed dipping his fingers in the potion and then proceeding to rub a cross over his forehead, like it was some common unction.

“Ohmmm,” the ghost said solemnly and Sergio, enraged, threw the first thing he could grab – a vial of toad eyes – through him. It shattered against the wall. The ghost whooped in delight and disappeared with a noisy _pop_ that Sergio knew was not necessary in the slightest.

Sergio took in a calming breath, exhaled slowly, and then went to clean up the mess. The slime had seeped into every little crack and Sergio scrubbed and scrubbed because if he did not get it perfectly clean, the rotting stench would become completely unbearable in just a few days.

“Well, that went well,” Sergio sighed, going outside and spilling the potion in front of the entrance. The off change that it would at least prevent other creatures from emerging could not be ignored.

Sergio still did not know where he went wrong seeing that he’d followed the instructions to a point. The ghost must have been something extraordinary which only made Sergio more suspicious. When he returned upstairs, Sergio grabbed the list again, intending to go through all the ingredients to make sure he added them in the right order.

The list was blank, not a single splotch of ink marring the yellowed paper.

Sergio stared at it, uncomprehending, turning it over and over in his hand until he heard the quiet whoosh of laughter from the other side of the room.

He did not even look up. He crumpled the paper and tossed it at the ghost. There was never any list, he could see that now. He was played for a fool, again.

The ghost hovered close to Sergio’s desk, completely at ease. It was the ghost’s home, after all. And Sergio was the intruder.

Rather than the old books, the ghost seemed interested in a cup of Sergio’s forgotten tea. “Don’t touch that,” Sergio growled.

“Or?”

“Or else,” Sergio said childishly. The ghost grinned at him and with a wink, he reached out for the cup. “I mean it,” Sergio warned. “It’s holy water.”

“Mnnn, purified seven times? That’s my favourite.” The ghost smirked, made to pick up the cup and paused. Sergio watched, fascinated, at the ghost’s gaze bored into the cup for one long, intense moment. And then the ghost disappeared, just as suddenly as it had first appeared. The mug clattered to the floor, Sergio’s tea spoilt.

Sergio remembered he had tried to make the ghost vanish by splashing holy water to his face. He also remembered quite clearly that it had no effects at all. Maybe, he pondered, the ghost just could not make any liquids go down his throat. Sergio felt, rather irrationally, very sorry for the creature.

**…**


	9. Chapter 9

**…**

Sergio woke up shivering. The fire had gone out at some point after the midnight and before the dawn, and nothing Sergio did could get him to feel warm again. The air had a frosty bite to it, the hallways felt cold and imposing, and Sergio’s old blanket did little to keep the shivers at bay.

For the better part of the night, Sergio had a recurring uneasy dream about standing in the middle of the mansion’s study room, getting completely drenched by rain that came down heavily from a gaping hole in the roof.

Sergio imagined the ghost cackling madly somewhere in the attic.

With a yawn, Sergio untangled himself from the bed sheet. It had been a long night and he stayed awake for the better part of it. The attack he had been bracing himself for had not come. Perhaps the ghost’s spell worked its wonder, perhaps it was the discouraging message the ghost sent the previous day upon encountering the banshee. Sergio had grown sleepy as the hours passed and all that could have been seen outside were the blurry shapes of bats overflying the mansion. Eventually, the desire to sleep had won over and here Sergio was now, awakened into another cold morning.

Sergio’s yawn turned into a full body shiver. The ghost must have been near him. Sergio frowned and turned to address the seemingly empty room: “If you’re going to be that way, then I’m going to–”

A cold raspy voice cut him off: “Are you threatening me?”

Sergio’s eyes kept scanning to room for any trace of movement but the ghost must have been well hidden. “I’m warning you. Get lost.”

With a low rumble of laughter, the ghost appeared barely seven feet away from Sergio. Sergio flinched away but the ghost was quick.

“Back off,” Sergio warned, although it was clear to him that the creature would not obey. The ghost was approaching and approaching fast until he was within an arm’s reach, and then – then he went right through Sergio. A chill run down his spine and Sergio shuddered. “D-d-damn you!”

Sergio sunk to the ground with a groan, his whole body hurting.

It all came back that instant; the choking, the desolate feeling, the numbness of senses and the utter heartache.

He was suddenly so cold that he could feel the warmth from the air touching his skin. The shivers worsened and would not stop.

Sergio crawled into his bed again and pulled the covers over himself but the cold was still biting.

Noiselessly, the ghost appeared at Sergio’s side. “Do you feel anything… beside the cold?” He sounded genuinely curious. 

“Be gone! Be gone!” Sergio groaned. The ghost gave him a long, searching look and then, inexplicably, it was gone. Sergio tucked the blankets closer to him and turned to face the wall.

It could not have been but seconds until there was a loud _crack_ behind Sergio’s back. Sergio swivelled around and jumped up, his lips forming the first word of a protective chant but the enemy had already been defeated.

“You should really watch your back,” the ghost admonished.

Both Sergio and the ghost watched the captured birdwing flutter its little jet black wings. Its hindwings bore blood-red marks that left smears against the jar the ghost had used to capture the creature. Upon each brush of the wings against the glass, the little creature let out an enraged screech that was much louder than anything so small should ever emit.

Stunned, Sergio only managed to stammer out a surprised _thank you_.

“You’re… welcome,” the ghost’s eyes widened. Sergio wondered what colour they used to have. “Good thing I was here.”

“Yes, good thing,” Sergio echoed. The glass with the birdwing was set on the desk and the little creature eventually quieted down.

The ghost kept hovering in Sergio’s room yet he did not attack again. He just withdrew to the window and remained silent. Sergio thought the moment was strangely peaceful, without either of them trying to get rid of the other.

Sergio cleared his throat and the ghost glanced up at him automatically, making Sergio shiver. “Listen, I wanted to say. I’m really thankful. It’s just that I don’t know half of the time if you’re trying to kill me or not.”

The ghost jerked his head in acknowledgement. “When you first came here, I was being… selfish.”

The ghost’s gaze was piercing and Sergio thought the creature could see right through him and into his soul. He shuddered again and settled back on the bed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

The ghost seemed to consider it for a moment and just when Sergio was about to give up his hopes of receiving a reply, the answer came with a soft whisper, “I don’t mean you any harm.”

Sergio had hard time believing that. The ghost must be a liar. What other explanation could be behind their first encounters – was the ghost trying to drive Sergio away for his own safety? Surely not. The ghost had seemed to be set on making Sergio draw his last breath.

“The mist,” Sergio said with a dawning suspicion, “I never repelled the mist, did I? You just decided to retreat when I wasn’t reacting well to your... presence.”

The silence was all the answer Sergio needed to hear. He leaned his head back against the headboard with a groan. “How many other things were just you humouring me?”

An uneasy silence stretched between him and the ghost. Only the fain echo of galloping could be heard in the distance. Sergio got so used to the sound he was not even aware of hearing it until he focused on the sound.

“The galloping,” Sergio started and the ghost winced, “what is it?”

“They are the white horses,” the ghosts offered as if that should make any sense to Sergio. “They bring death to the family.”

With a visible effort, Sergio suppressed another shiver, instead shifting lower on the bed and folding his arms on his chest. “And the rituals to disperse you?”

“I could feel them all,” the ghost admitted. “But the pull of the soul was always stronger.”

Sergio’s chest felt too tight and he bowed his head. He could feel the ghost’s gaze, calm and perceptive. “I’m sorry,” Sergio mumbled. “About everything.”

Sergio paused, gathering his thoughts. He did not know where to begin with his apologies. He had wronged the ghost too many times to count and if the ghost had been trying to protect him all along, Sergio only managed to bring the poor creature more pain.

Finally, Sergio felt like he could speak again without his voice failing him. He raised his head, determined to look the ghost in his pale eyes when apologising.

The ghost was gone.

Sergio let out a harsh breath. “I’m _sorry_ ,” he whispered quietly into the empty room.

Closing his eyes, Sergio lied down on his bed, feeling tired deep to his bones. There was no point in getting up now. He might as well catch up with that he had missed during the night he was awake.

It took several restless hours of tossing until the uneasy sleep claimed him.

**…**


	10. Chapter 10

**…**

A peculiar sound penetrated Sergio’s consciousness. It had the wailing quality of a wind, yet it came and went in a very regular pattern.

Like breathing, Sergio realized and opened his eyes to feel around with his hand for an oil lamp. The room was plunged into darkness which puzzled Sergio momentarily. He did not think it possible for him to have slept through the whole day and for it to be another night already. Perhaps the evening sky got way too dark again. Sergio light the lamp up and it flickered to life, giving a dim light for a couple of seconds before dying out. With his hand shaking, Sergio set the burnt out oil lamp on the floor.

“Who is there?” he called.

The breathing stopped. He couldn’t hear any steps hastening away. He couldn’t hear anything but the darkest silence.

“Is that you?” Sergio tried again in sotto voce.

The temperature in the room plummeted and with an absolute clarity, Sergio knew that this wasn’t his ghost’s doing.

The room filled with deep, impenetrable darkness.

With his right hand, Sergio tightly clasped the protective charm that hung around his neck. “ _Ad meliora_ –”

A terrible shriek chilled Sergio’s bones. Then Sergio was choking, tears prickling in his eyes.

He gasped for air, he needed to breathe. He struggled for the few gulps of pure darkness that were so cold his whole chest burnt with it. The air in the room thinned. Soon, Sergio’s hold on his consciousness slipped away from him altogether–

Sergio came to with a choked cry. He sat up on the floor and looked around him. No wonder he felt like he could not breathe the air, the dark mist was everywhere. Sergio’s eyes could barely recognize the outlines of the room he came to know so intimately.

He felt he could be lost in the darkness forever, trapped in the moist haze that stuck to his skin and his lung and stifled his breath. 

Everything was a blur. Everything but a splotch of light coming murkily through the mist. Sergio moved forward, pulled by the desire to be close to it. He stopped only inches away, the glow stinging his eyes enough to make him raise one hand to shield his eyes.

The light swirls of mist came to meet him, soaking him with cold comfort. They were scattered all around him, little streaks of softness lost in the shadows, intimately familiar yet rather unfathomable.

Unbidden, the words came to his lips. Sergio reached out his hands, his fingers spread wide. There was nothing he could grasp or get a hold on in the moist air. He muttered the familiar words that came out in a melodious streak. Soon, Sergio saw the results, the dispersed glittering mist coming together in bigger and bigger swirls. The progress was painfully slow but Sergio would rather chant until he was completely hoarse than allow the agonized soul to dwell in a state of such misery. What he saw in front of his eyes were without any doubt shattered pieces of the ghost’s soul. It was his spirit that created the soft cold glow. The ultimate darkness had attempted to take over but the ghost must have acted selflessly and made this sacrifice to protect Sergio. To think he had once wanted to bring this very state upon the poor tormented soul – Sergio trembled and his hands shook as he hold onto an empty air.

The darkness was unmoving.

Every now and then he would feel a cold tremor as the light was being brought together again under his fingertips. The silky strands of tenderness that were weaved through the darkness would have been overlooked, lost and soon forgotten if it were not for Sergio. He pulled them together, one by one by one, until, eventually, Sergio’s diligent efforts brought the creature back into its existence.

A few tense moments passed in which neither the ghost nor Sergio knew what to say. They were so close that they would be touching if Sergio moved his hands just an inch. They were drinking the sight of the other, their souls still echoing with the unexpected oneness.

Now that Sergio knew what to look for, he could feel the cold tranquillity of the connection to the ghost. No more secrets between them.

Sergio let his hands fall to his sides.

The darkness around them started to lose strength.

“You… called… to me,” the ghost breathed out, voice as if frosty fingers scraped against the windows in a cold winter morning.

Sergio nodded in agreement, then watched as a shy shadow of smile blossomed on the ghost’s face. As if a sun peaked through the heavy clouds to share a little of its warmth.

The ghost bowed his head and said in a low murmur, “I… wasn’t sure you could.”

Sergio was suddenly sure there was not much he _could not_ do for the ghost. He gulped, attempting to find his voice again.

The cold unwavering gaze was still locked on Sergio. “When did you first notice something was… off?”

“When I stopped aging,” Sergio muttered quietly, almost too quietly for anyone else to hear.

The ghost was close enough that he heard. He made a small sympathetic noise and something in Sergio’s chest came undone in unison with the sound.

“I needed to make sure people won’t start noticing. Could never stay long at one place, after that. How long has it been for you–” Sergio stopped abruptly, realizing the insensitivity of his question. “Sorry.”

The ghost remained silent for a moment that was long enough for Sergio to start squirming. Then the ghost said slowly, “Seven years.”

Seven years, crucial to the soul. Sergio recalled seeing the old mansion for the first time; the mist was reflecting in the lake like in a _mirror_. “Seven years,” Sergio repeated reverently.

The ghost turned his head to stare into a distance, shoulders slumped.

“You really were my soul mate,” Sergio acknowledged in a quiet, gut-wrenching realization. Anguished, he hung his head, fighting against the wave of the pain that gripped him. He couldn’t look at the ghost. He couldn’t look and see all the possibilities, all the missed chances. It would break him completely to see the creature’s shell of its former self and wonder about all the things that were not. Oh, to know it was all in vain! Sergio squeezed his eyes tightly.

“I’m your soulmate,” the ghost corrected softly.

The phantom touch of coldness neared Sergio’s shoulder but when Sergio blinked his eyes open, he could see that the ghost was not touching him at all. He was hovering close but did not dare to touch Sergio.

“I saw your soul, I think,” Sergio murmured. “It called to me, too.”

“I can’t move on when your soul still dwells here. You’re alive and my soul is bind to yours.”

Sergio spared a thought about the unfortunate complication. They would have to find a way for him to cross. He did not realize he spoke aloud.

“You wouldn’t!” The ghost recoiled, horrified. Sergio noticed that his outlines blurred as the ghost lost focus on his form.

“There will be always time to move on. We’ve got nowhere to hurry,” Sergio said, placating. He saw the shy smile on the ghost’s face turn into a full blown grin. No, it wasn’t just a ghost. It was his soulmate. They could figure things out as they went. Together. “How long do you reckon before the creatures start trying to creep back in?”

They still had a couple of more hours, the ghost replied.

“Good.” Between him and his soulmate, the creatures did not stand a fighting chance. “Let’s starts again. I’m Sergio,” he extended his hand towards his soulmate and did not even wince when the cold hand gripped tightly around him.


End file.
